<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>There's nothing like summer in the city by Adeline_Woods</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653331">There's nothing like summer in the city</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Woods/pseuds/Adeline_Woods'>Adeline_Woods</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bookshop, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, ahhh, all good stuff, first fic, i might not finish this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:09:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Woods/pseuds/Adeline_Woods</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John is learning the ropes to take over his father's business but he has other dreams, then he meets Alex. Please be nice this is my first fan fiction.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>There's nothing like summer in the city</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John was exhausted. His father had been dragging him from meeting to meeting in the height of summer, it was so hot some of Henry Laurens own staff and chosen not to show up. His father had been like this non-stop for the past four months, since John had finally agreed to take over his father business as a ‘birthday present’. </p><p>He remembered being torn for weeks before hand as his previous school had told him he couldn’t pursue a career in arts as the art he made was ‘of irregular format and erratic schedule’, he could scream just thinking about it, art was art! It didn’t need a ‘format’. On top of that he thought of his younger brother Henry.jr , he couldn’t put all that stress on his eight year old brother who still would agree with his father unconditionally on every matter. He knew that his father wanted to retire soon as his back problems kept getting worse and worse every day, he owed it to his father what with all the hardship he had gone through. Losing his wife, temporary paralysis of the spine and caring for all the children on his own. He didn’t blame his father for wanting to teach john as fast as possible. But still, John had one year left of school, one year left he had to convince a new group of people not to like him. When he graduated he would own all the people he had to talk too.  Yet he felt disappointed.</p><p>He had never had a party of his own or laughed at some joke on of his friends made at the teacher, he had never trusted anyone besides his siblings. He was alone, he knew it was his fault though, he had chosen to go to church with his father every Sunday, he had chosen to study instead of doing sports, John knew he was the reason he didn’t have friends and he accepted that. </p><p>He glanced around at the small branch his father had brought him too in the suburbs of new York, like all the other offices he had visited that day, it was unbearably hot, crowded and grungy. He turned to his father, who confidently strode through the crowds of workers he owned towards a door at the back of the building. When he reached the door, he smiled down at John, on the realisation that his son had resembled that of a sweaty Pitbull he calmed pulled John away from the door, knowing him son was not going to be able to make it through one more meeting today. ‘John..’ he said softly to the boy, ‘I want you to go across the street to get me something.’ Johns eyes lit up at the idea of a cool breeze of air on his damp face. ‘There is a bookshop across the street, I have been meaning to pick up a few books for Martha’s lessons. I need you to go get them while I finish up here.’ He handed John a crumped receipt with a few book titles scribbled on the back and a wad of 10 dollar bills. John nodded gratefully at his father as he turned around to begin his trek out of the building</p><p>As he forced the heavy glass door open with a dead arm, he felt something he had not felt all day. The wind danced around him tickling his sweat covered face, he breathed a sigh of relief and composed himself as he scanned the street around him for the bookshop. He tied his wavy hair into a makeshift bun as he ambled his was down the road to a homely looking building that only a bookshop could look like.</p><p>Soon he neared the building he glanced at the display in the window, it was advertising a new children’s book that was full of colour and life. Johns eyes narrowed as he thought back to when he used to visit bookshops as a child, he couldn’t remember the last time he had even seen a book with pictures, when his mother had died his father had decided it was time for him to grow up and be responsible. The Laurens family did not read pictures books he would say, we are smarter than that. John blinked rapidly as he noticed tears starting to swell in his eyes blurring his vision, Laurens men did not cry, his father would say. He jutted his chin up as he walked into the wall heat that was the bookshop. He opened his eyes to see large shelves stacked with all kinds of books, large, small, hardback and colourful. But they all had one thing in common, together they created a musty odour that made john feel satisfied.</p><p> It was one of those few moments he rarely felt anymore, of complete happiness and content. The kind of moment he wanted to keep in a photograph forever, still, warm and full of colour. He took in the rows of colourful books filled with knowledge he would probably never be about to fully understand. He stepped forward and, in that step, he was dragged back into harsh reality. The sound of a child crying in the back of the shop. He remembered why he was here, to buy books. He was not here to enjoy himself; he had a purpose. He straightened up and tugged at his tie so that it lay flat on his shirt. He carefully opened out the old receipt his father had scribbled on, he made his way over to the history and politics section hoping to find some of the books needed for Martha’s history sessions. </p><p>As he turned into the secluded area, he noticed a boy who didn’t look much younger than him sat on the floor facing the bookshelf, head in a book that looked bigger than his head. The boy attention didn’t falter from the book as John made his way round the bookshelves looking for the history book he needed. John glanced down every few seconds trying to get a glimpse at what the boy was so engrossed by. He saw a few reoccurring words, ‘liabilities’ and ‘finance’, they were words that were all too familiar to john, they were used in almost all the meeting his father had dragged him to. John managed to miss the book he was looking for twice before he finally realised that he had found it. He knew he didn’t have a reason to stay in this section, but he felt an urge to know what the boy was so interested by. </p><p>He pretended as if he was browsing for himself, slowly running his fingers along the spines of the books, while trying to read over the boy’s shoulder. Eventually he realised he was just stood their staring at the boy in the middle of the room, not even being casual about it. He checked his watch, he had been there for 10 minutes just staring, he desperately wanted to be friends with the boy, he knew that it was now or never, he had to take a shot. </p><p>He could see he had just started a new chapter about the history national banks, john realised that his father was strongly against the concept of national banks, thinking that the government had too much control over his money; his father was the type of man who kept all his money in a small banking company he had established a few years back. John wanted to impress the boy and so he said the 18 words he would later come to regret for weeks, </p><p>‘you know national banks are stupid, it’s just a way for the government to tax you more money’</p><p>John smirked with a feeling of proud for saying something so witty, maybe the boy would be so impressed they could be friends.<br/>
The boy slowly turned around with a look of disgust and astonishment, who had interrupted his book to say such an obnoxious thing? He slowly got to his feet, put the book back on its shelf and stared down this boy with large curly hair running down his back and a smirk that made him want to scream. But he decided he would not get angry, he didn’t want to be kicked out this bookstore, like the last one. So he kept a straight face and calmed said, </p><p>‘You’re wrong, you would know if you had an ounce of intelligence, well established banks are more convenient and are significantly better ways to earn on your deposited money.’ </p><p>He calmed continued to explain every detail and advantage of national banks, as Johns face slowly got redder and redder at the thought of being wrong, </p><p>John hated this feeling, when he was younger people used to just insult him and leave, knowing what his father would do if they layed a hand on him; this was so much worse, he was being degraded by this man who only came up to his shoulder.</p><p>Finally the boy finished gulping for air after delivering a long piece on the advantages relating to atms. He noticed that the curly haired boy looked mad, he realised he had to get out before he started something he couldn’t finish. He picked up his hat quickly turning around to leave, when John asked whether he was going to buy the book. He laughed awkwardly, </p><p>‘I already know everything in that book’</p><p>John once again stopped him placing a hand on the smaller boys shoulder, he looked even angrier now at the boys smart remark. </p><p>‘Who even are you, freak?’</p><p>John hadn’t meant to insult him, he only wanted a friend, but this boy had made him feel awful, in such a wonderful place. The small boy gained a panicked look on his face at the idea that John might hurt him.</p><p>‘Alexander, my parents are waiting for me, they expect me back by now.’</p><p>Alex knew this was a lie, he just needed to get out of there before this tall boy, could get him into trouble. John saddened at the thought that he had just thrown away his shot at gaining a friend. As soon as John released him from his grip the boy was gone faster than he could apologise. John wanted to fix this, he grabbed the book Alexander had been reading and put it with the other books he had collected as he walked towards the counter, he knew one thing for certain. He was not going to lose another opportunity to make friends because of his stupidity.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What did you think, please drop a comment if you want another chapter, like I said this is my first fan fiction, so was I any good? I'm not great at writing romance so appologies if this is mostly angst. Thank you for taking the time to actually finish this :D yay me!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>